


pretzels with papa

by blifuys



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Claude is a broadway actor, Dimitri is a boxer, Domestic, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Mostly Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23612440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blifuys/pseuds/blifuys
Summary: dimitri and his daughter spend some time together, going over what makes someone human.or: dadmitri and the way life comes full circle.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	pretzels with papa

**Author's Note:**

> this! is part of [my friend Miya](https://twitter.com/jotaromilk) and my dimiclaude AU! this will be the first time i am revealing our child oc in a fic, and i can only hope you will love her as much as we do. our child, our spark of fire, our annika.

These days, it isn’t as easy enough for Dimitri to fall into that familiar pit of self doubt and pain. 

Adulthood and countless hours sitting in his therapists’ room have done wonders for the man. Years of experience taking him through crisis after crisis has prepared him for anything that comes his way. From the highs and lows of his career, to the difficulties of navigating space around another person in such close proximity to him all the time(—bless Claude and his never-ending patience, it only deepens Dimitri’s bottomless well of love for the man—), Dimitri has faced so many setbacks that damage control comes quite easily for him now. 

But nothing—no one,  _ not even his therapist  _ who always wordlessly scribbles notes in front of him while he sniffles into his third ball of crumpled up tissue, could prepare him for parenthood. To his own credit, he _tries._  


It’s a sunny day in New York. The sky’s the perfect shade of blue, not a cloud in sight as the warmth of the sun beams on him—Dimitri curled up very comfortably on the rickety old couch that somehow manages to hold up the weight of himself  _ and _ his little family. Dimitri considers the sunny day to be a big win for the laundry that Claude’s asked him to do. 

“Mitya,” Claude had said, tearing through the apartment like a tornado as he grabbed for his essentials—wallet on the dining table, lip balm in the dish holding their loose change, keys on the the floor—“I’m sorry to ask this of you, could you help do the laundry today? Annika has a game tomorrow and—”

“Sure,” Dimitri smiled at him then, stopping his husband right before he escaped through the door, hands reaching up to curl around his waist and pulling his smaller body closer. Claude is always so handsome in the morning, dark brown hair swept backwards and his eyes fresh and twinkling emerald. Today, he’s dressed more casually than normal—Dimitri’s  _ Go Blue Lions! _ shirt hanging off his smaller frame over simple brown trousers. “Do you have everything?”

“Mm, not  _ everything, _ ” Claude’s lips curled up at the side, coy smirk lulling Dimitri closer like a magnet. Even if his husband was rushing for another rehearsal, Dimitri knew exactly what to expect. And who was he to deny it? “I still haven’t had my morning kiss.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Whatever Claude wants, Claude gets. Those are the rules of the small Blaiddyd-Riegan kingdom, spanning approximately sixty-five square metres across with a very strange hole in the pastel blue wall next to the dining table, suspiciously as large as a knee. 

Dimitri leaned in for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, Claude already so close to him that he could feel the heat radiating off him. Kissing his husband is akin to kissing the sun, Dimitri thinks. The way his skin burned so pleasantly on Dimitri’s as they pressed their chests together, closing off the distance between them both. A peck was quite sufficient for a simple morning goodbye, for if Dimitri were to be permitted even a second longer, Claude would have found himself back in bed—clothes slowly shedding one by one until there was nothing between them.

“Take care, starlight. I’ll see you and Annika later.” Claude whispered as the remnants of their kiss fogged up between them, parting lips temporarily until the next time his husband returned home. 

The washing machine whirrs in the background as he settles down in his spot. Dimitri adores the silent moments in the apartment. That is not to say he does not enjoy his energizer-bunny of a daughter, or the fresh air his husband breathes into the space they take up, but Dimitri is a simple man. Sometimes he finds solace in his own thoughts, solace in simply  _ being _ , and the peace of mind that he’s learned to nurture within himself did not come easily. 

So he sits. He listens to the washing machine whirl, listens to the pigeons that start to coo on his fire escape, lining up one-by-one on the railing. He feels the way the couch creaks under his body, the way his weight sinks into the most awkward of places on the piece of furniture. Closing his eyes, Dimitri thinks he can smell Claude around, soft cinnamon of his shampoo clinging to his shirt and mixing in the clean air. 

They do not live the life Dimitri was given as a child, far from the large mansions and catered food. The Blaiddyd-Riegans reside in a dinky little apartment tucked away somewhere in New York, living on home-cooked food and pizza from Papa Frank’s down the street. 

It is not much, not as much as Dimitri is used to, but it’s so much more like  _ home _ . 

What should he do now, he wonders. Should he take a nap? Read a book? Catch up with his friends? His freetime seems endless, full of opportunity and potential, and Dimitri is more than happy with the possibilities that laid themselves in front of him on this beautiful, beautiful morning. 

Until he hears it. 

Metallic footsteps ring just outside his window, telltale sounds of someone climbing up the rickety old stairs echoing loud and clear through the apartment. There is only one person who Dimitri knows who preferred the fire escape over their front door, one person who had the guts and sheer grit to scale the heights using decades old infrastructure that could fall apart at any time.

And yet, that person stops outside the window instead of sliding the panels open. 

Dimitri gets up, heading to the window, leaving his peace behind on the sofa. 

—

The first time he met Annika, he knew he was in love. 

Upon mutual agreement that they were ready for a family, Dimitri seemed to be stricken with a chronic case of baby fever—researching the ways and required steps to take to welcome a new child into their home. They had discussed multiple options—ranging from surrogate births, to straight up stealing a baby off the street (Claude had responded with a flat ‘no’. Dimitri was not allowed to babynap  _ anybody _ ). 

But eventually, adoption seemed like the perfect solution.

Her paper said that she was five years old, orphaned after a fire had taken her biological parents. It had taken both Claude and Dimitri  _ months _ before the paperwork was accepted, before they were both cleared to be potential parents to a child, and the day those large, azure-blue eyes stared at him with curiosity and distrust—he  _ knew _ he would love their daughter to the very end. 

— 

“Hey, champ,” Dimitri pushes open the window, watching a young woman’s back face him as her wavy brown hair swayed slightly in the breeze. Her hands are curled around the railing, grip white-knuckled from how hard she seemed to be grasping metal. A duffel bag lays at her feet, and Dimitri can identify the black-and-white fabric to be her sports bag, holding whatever gear she was supposed to have that morning. “Not coming in?”

Her frame trembles slightly, shivering. She shakes her head in a silent ‘no’, ponytail swishing side to side in the movement. It is not cold out, winter has long left them—leaving only the dry spring air behind. The way his daughter does not make a sound tells him that obviously something is  _ very, very wrong _ —his stomach curls at the thought that  _ his baby girl _ was hurt, that he couldn’t protect her. 

“What’s wrong?”

Dimitri does his best to squeeze his way out of the window. How the hell Annika manages to do this every day is beyond him, but tiny spaces do not phase him. He’d do  _ anything _ to protect his family, and anyone who dared cross the most important people in his life would have hell to pay. Eventually, the man wiggles free from the window, and it takes three steps before he reaches her at the railing. 

In the years of watching Annika grow, Dimitri knows that his daughter is a tough nut to crack. His little heroine, borne of titanium and courage, has always risen up to whatever life throws at her. She’s won medals, trophies—all lined up in the glass cabinet that Claude had very excitedly put together the day his little girl came rushing home with a gold disk in her tiny little hand, and one very nasty gash on her knee accompanied by the biggest grin they’ve ever seen on her beautiful face. 

So to see her  _ cry _ hurt his heart. And oh, did it hurt badly. 

“... Champ?” Dimitri murmurs, reaching a gentle hand out to brush her bangs back, hair wavy like her other father’s—surprisingly. “Tell papa what’s up.”

The tears roll down her pale face as she sniffles—a loud snorting sound filling the air between them as water flows endlessly. Annika turns her body to the side, allowing herself to lean into her father’s kind and loving hold, and Dimitri is all too happy to accept her with the tightest hug he can offer. 

“I… It’s nothing,” She mutters, voice so choked up that he could barely hear the energy from it, rasping as if she’s cried the entire walk home. “It’s nothing much, I just didn’t do so good today.”

“That’s not nothing, dearest,” Dimitri whispers, but his words are sincere. How many times in his youth has he felt the same? That his thoughts were  _ nothing _ , that even the smallest weakness proved to be a burden on everyone around him? He’s still unravelling patterns to this very day, but he sees opportunity to stop the avalanche before it starts. “You’re here crying, aren’t you? Unless you’re like your other father, I don’t think acting is your forte.”

“Papaaa,” Annika’s weeping sobs choke into laughter, coughing as she clears her throat. “No one can act like appa, that’s his  _ job _ !” 

“And it’s also our job to keep you sane and well. What’s up, darling?”

Annika sniffs again, reaching up with one hand to wipe away at her hot tears. It seems that his joke has lifted the dark storm cloud hanging over his daughter’s head, leaving her with lips that curl with the ghost of a smile, although her cheeks stain with salty tears.    


“My coach said I wasn’t doing as well as I should be,” She admits, her quiet voice uncharacteristic of her usual lively demeanor. “It got a little too much.” 

“I see.” Dimitri’s arm curls around his daughter’s shoulders, pulling her close against his chest. 

“Not that he said anything  _ mean _ , I just—I just… I felt it, papa. My body wasn’t working the way I wanted it to, and I couldn’t do  _ anything _ right today,” She hangs her head low, pressing her ear against where his heart beats. “It feels like I’m a fraud.”

There was once upon a time where someone said to Dimitri: “Family is more than blood.” He hadn’t made much of it then, but the way Annika’s voice twisted and curled with poisonous frustration reminded him of himself—of times that he had sunk so low into his own self-loathing, wishing,  _ praying  _ that he could be better. 

_ You’re fine just the way you are, _ he wishes someone had said to him then. 

“Annika, even if you didn’t do well today, it doesn’t mean that you’re fraud.” He says to his daughter now. 

“But—”

“Champ. Who is the coolest person you know?”

“You and appa.”

“And you do realise that both of us are not _always_ 'cool', right?” 

“...”

Dimitri chuckles, slowly beginning to squeeze his daughter in his arms again. Beyond blood ties and biological bonds, Annika Sabine Blaiddyd-Riegan is not immune to the family’s curse. The endless circling in the mind wears tracks into their thoughts, and Dimitri’s learned through experience that it is sometimes necessary that someone else untangles the messy, knotted cloud that jams up their brains. 

“There are good days and there are bad days. You cannot expect your other father to  _ always _ perform at a hundred percent, and there are days where I’ll lose matches,” Dimitri says. “But in the end, we are only human. It will not serve you well to place yourself under heavy scrutiny always.” 

“I…” Annika mutters, sliding her arms around Dimitri’s middle and returning the hug. He always likes it when she returns his embraces, for his daughter  _ loves _ squeezing him until she feels comforted, safe and protected. “I just want to do my best, papa.”

“I think you’re  _ already  _ the best, champ.” The man leans down and brushes his lips against his daughter’s forehead, warm affection filling his chest up as he thinks about just how much he loves his daughter, his husband. They are a light in his darkest days, the hand that holds him up whenever he needs. 

Annika smiles, beaming sunlight at him. It may not be at a hundred percent, but it’s still something. He knows that even the tallest giants must fall sometimes, and it is okay. They learn, they lose, but Dimitri knows more than anything that the sun will rise again on them someday. They’ll just have to take care of themselves in the meantime. 

“Now, you must be hungry! Come in, your other father told me he’s in the mood for Italian tonight—” Dimitri reaches down and plucks the duffel bag off the metal flooring, slinging the strap over his shoulder as he ushers his daughter towards the window. He squeezes her shoulders, silent ‘I love yous’ running through the tips of his fingers as he grins at Annika. “Maybe we’ll get a pizza. He’s really been working hard lately.”

“Ooh, meat lovers! Meat lovers!” Annika cheers, bending her body effortlessly to fit through the window. “Extra cheese, extra chilli peppers, extra everything! My treat!”

“Champ, it’s  _ always _ your treat. Let your fathers pay for once, why don’t you?” Dimitri laughs. 

“Nah. My way of spreading the love,” The young woman winks at her father, cheeky quirk of the lip extremely familiar to Dimitri in a way he can’t place. “I got pretzels on my way home. Wanna share, papa?”

“I would like that.” Dimitri grins, the room seeming a lot brighter now, light floating in through the fire escape window behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> in this au, 
> 
> \- dimitri has gone to therapy. he is on medication.  
> \- claude is a broadway actor. dimitri is a boxer at one of those gymnasiums that (legally) allow betting. he goes by the Blue Lion. annika has never seen his boxing matches because he fears that she will be disillusioned with him and fear him. when annika finally sees his match, she stands up in the crowd and screams "KICK HIS FUCKING ASS PAPA"  
> \- lambert is alive in this au, dimitri does not have a good relationship with him  
> \- sylvain, felix, hubert, ferdinand, dedue, hilda, glenn and holst all exist in this au. more to come later
> 
> and finally, i have done a sprite edit on what miss annika looks like!:
> 
> [click here to see what she looks like!](https://twitter.com/nekohmy/status/1249340690691002368?s=20)
> 
> thanks for reading! maybe i'll write more boxer dima au owo
> 
>   
> [boom boom boom boom i want you in my room](https://twitter.com/blifuys)


End file.
